WE WERE CROSSING
ocean covered by a
crust of moving ice
that cracked and buckled con
stantly, leaving leads of open
water, some so wide we could
not see the other side. These we
had to ski along until we found
a narrow neck to cross. We
broke through eight times dur
ing the trip, but saltwater ice is
elastic, like rubber, and we had
time to scramble to safety.
Past expeditions would wait
for days for water to freeze over
but we didn't let smaller leads
stop us. We had designed our
sledges extra wide and high to
act as boats, and now we lashed
them together with our skis
to form a stable catamaran
and paddled with a shovel or
another ski. On this crossing
(right)I broke thin ice with
empty sledges before returning
to haul supplies.
Low weight was the key; of
the unsupported attempts at the
Pole we were among the light
est. Our Kevlar-and-fiberglass
sledges weighed only 265
pounds each, fully loaded. We
took bottled-gas fuel for 70
days, and it all went to melt ice
for water, none to heat the tent.
The thermometer read minus
50°C inside as Erling luxuriated
in his morning porridge (left). It
was like having a sauna on your
face, and we looked forward to
it all night.
Erling's left foot blistered
from the hiking (bottom), but
he's a tough guy. We just ban
daged it, and he used a safety
pin each night to drain it.
We ate the same food every
day-porridge mixed with fat
for breakfast, porridge with fat
and sugar and high-fat choco
late for lunch, and freeze-dried
meat with rice or potatoes,
mixed with fat, for dinner. But
hunger followed like a ghost,
and as we struggled toward the
Pole, visions of pork roasts, spa
ghetti, and creamed mushrooms
haunted us. My diary brims
with crazy recipes.
Leaving my son, Max, back
in Norway was hard. When his
second birthday came on April
12, we celebrated with a bag of
fruit soup I had hidden in my
gear. The only other extra
weight I carried was two family
photographs. Erling sneaked in
a tube of toothpaste.
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